


and there is nothing that could be done

by ribbonelle



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Frottage, Humanstuck, M/M, Victorianstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribbonelle/pseuds/ribbonelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tavros Nitram, a man from a noble family meets Eridan Ampora, a stranger who seems to have a serious affinity for boats. Friendship is formed.<br/>But of course, being Tavros Nitram, he could never really have anything go the way he wants it to. Nothing at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and there is nothing that could be done

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: It's a bit of a mess and I'm sure I've gotten some facts about the Victorian era terribly wrong. Research have been done but I'm a little paranoid I've got the custom wrong but this has been edited for so long I'm just going to take a leap of faith. .

Your name is Tavros Nitram and you are standing in the deck of a ship, watching people carry boxes and equipment on their backs. You want to help, but you know you shouldn’t. You shift on your legs, trying hard to look ‘noble and full of class’ like how Mama demonstrated, but you’re sure you look silly. You settle into laid back discomfort. Your prosthetics are starting to ache from standing too much, but you wouldn’t look like a gentleman if you sat down while watching the others work. 

Being an aristocrat is utter bullshit, and you know it.

Shifting a few more times, you decide you’re getting sick of standing in one spot for so long, so you walk around, ending up at the edge of the ship. You’ve been entranced by the vessel since you saw it, it’s a design you’ve never seen before. Definitely not from England, or from a country you are familiar with. You slide your fingers along its edge, a type of wood of course, and marvel at the carvings on its side as you bend a little, observing them.

“Fascinatin’, aren’t they?

You look up, pretty darn startled at the voice suddenly next to you. Just like magic, there’s this man who looks roughly your age, maybe a little older, grinning like he’s discovered hidden treasure. His grin reminds you of sharks. He’s wearing a shirt, the first few buttons undone and considering all the other men were at least decently clothed, that isn’t a usual sight. Either he’s just terribly uncivilised, or you might have not noticed a mental handicap board this ship earlier. You blink at him, before nodding, because the carvings truly were fascinating.  


For a moment, you forget about your manners and hesitate to introduce yourself, but it didn’t really matter. He’s off about the boat, eyes glinting and hands gesturing like he owns the thing, gracefully moving from one place to another. You find yourself following him.  


“She’s called a caravel. Bloody beauties, I tell you. All the way from Portugal, if you’re wonderin’. You see that triangular rig there? They call it lateen-rigged, this ship. So it’s caravel latina, in their language. “ He pats the mast, beaming at the definitely triangular mast up above, and looks back at you. “You know how Columbus found America? He had one of this babies with him during his journey. Now how impressive is _that?_ ”  


You’re watching him in amusement, nodding vigorously because Columbus bringing a caravel when he discovered America was impressive. Also because he looks so animated when he’s talking. There’s also something peculiar about the way he says his ‘w’s and his ‘v’s and you’re trying to place the accent. It’s slightly funny but also soothing to the ears. You wonder what his name is.  


“The Spanish? They have a slightly altered version of the caravel, but they have a saying for this lovely thing. Corredoras extremadas, buenas para descubrir tierras.” The words roll off his lips and you perk up, to continue for him, “Extreme runners, excellent to discover new lands.”  


He stops and stares as if he just realizes that you could actually utter words and speak, and the grin returns, even more predatory, even more shark-like. You like it. “You speak Spanish?”  


“I used to have Spanish classes every Thursday. Father said a knowledgeable gentleman, always knows how to communicate in at least three languages.”  


“Bloody impressive,” he extends a hand and you take it, shaking it firmly. “Eridan Ampora, at your service. And you are?”  


“Tavros Nitram, the feeling is mutual.” He doesn’t seem to recognize your surname, and you’re very glad of that. Your family isn’t quite a large contributor to England’s economy, but you were wealthier than about 73% of the population, so it was still quite a privilege.  


“So, my good sir Nitram. You like ships, I reckon?”  


“Well, not specifically but I, suppose this caravel is really a thing of beauty, Sir Ampora. You seem to know quite a lot, about ships.”  


“Hell yes I do. This caravel, she’s named ‘Estrellas de mar’. Estrella, for short. You obviously know what that means, right?”  


You grin, quirking an eyebrow, “Starfish. Star, for short. It’s a lovely name. She does look beautiful though compared, to all the other ships. But, I would guess Estrella isn’t, uh, really for long distance sailing?”  


Running fingers through his hair, he shakes his head, shrugging, “Nah. Lady’s only good for nearby places and but she’s darn easy to handle, I’ll tell you that. That’s why we had her handlin’ all your stuff for you. A little bit pricey, though, right?”  


“A little,” you agree reluctantly. You aren’t even sure who he is, but he sure knows a lot about your business and ships. Captain of the ship, maybe? Does caravels even have captains? “So um, Ampora. It’s nice looking around like this, but may I ask you a question? Who even are you, on this ship?”  


He turns to you fully, and you notice that his eyes are green. Greenish blue, to be exact. Like the sea on a gloomy day. They glint with menace, but then he winks and you’re slightly taken aback. He doesn’t seem like a proper gentleman, but his poise and his stature suggests he is. You’ve never been more confused and curious at the same time.  


“Well, Tav,” he whispers conspiratorially, using your birth name which no one else would ever dare to use, “Let’s just say I own Starfish.”  


*** 

Eridan doesn’t tell you anything else about himself after that. To be exact, he tells you nothing about his background, but readily enough shares about his love for ships and the sea, about countries he long to visit and sights he wants to see. You suggest that he try out for the naval army, but he just shakes his head sadly and gives you a weary smile.  


In return, you tell him about your love for animals, and your interest in music. You also mention your legs and he asks to see your prostheses, but he didn’t seem terribly bothered by them. He bends down and runs his fingers along the leather, and for once you're sad that you couldn’t feel anything. You don’t know why you felt that way, but you did anyway. He mutters a quiet ‘shame’, before straightening up again, teasing you about being a pirate since you had wooden legs.  


His wavering is a speech impediment, just like your own. You only discover that by asking after he inquired about your stuttering. It seems that you lose slight control of the hitches when you converse with him, since the classes Father put you through has given you quite an effect. He nods sagely at the explanation and scoffs, saying that stuttering is better than sounding whiny every time he said the letter ‘V’. He demonstrated a few times with your name, going ‘Tavvros, Tavvros,’ and you laughed. You aren’t sure what you felt about that, but you laughed.  


The both of you talk about everything and nothing, till the sun sets and night came, and by the end of the day, you’ve made a new discovery. No man you’ve ever seen is as lonely as Eridan Ampora, and you couldn’t help but pity him for it. If he knew, he’ll probably rip you a new one, being definitely sure of himself though you still don’t know where he stood in the hierarchy. You don’t think you want to know. Eridan could talk like he owns the universe, and despite the exciting glint in his eyes, there’s always this echo of loneliness to his voice. Sorrow and bitterness etched into the creases of his eyes. Mama always told you that you had a knack at reading people’s faces, and you couldn’t say you didn’t use your advantage often.  


When night falls, you ask for permission to leave. Time just flew along with the words he uttered; you didn’t realize when exactly your men finished handling the cargo. He walks you out of the small cabin of the caravel, and you pause a moment to appreciate the sight of the docks at night. The sea is as black as ink and the docks are dotted with lanterns. You lean against the edge of the ship, taking in its beauty.  


“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Eridan says, resting aside you, looking out to the sea, “We could always just stay here for a few days. I could even bring you out to sea, if you want to. ‘Tis not going to be too far, but well, far enough.” His shark grin was even more alarming silhouetted by moonlight, but you have a strange fondness for it by now. Smiling in return, you shake your head, “Ampora, that would be a terrible nuisance. I have no spare clothing and, my family will be waiting for my return home.”  


“Oh, who gives a tuppence,” he pulls a face, before leaning even further against the ship’s edge, looking for something. At the sight of a fisherman tying his boat up he whistles, and hollers, “Hello there old chap! Would you please find us the Nitram residence and inform the family that the young son is out on an adventure. He’ll be home when he’s home, but not any time soon! There’s chink in it for you, so you should probably get to it.”  


The man nods and run off, and you glance back up to Eridan in disbelief, “You have to be joking.”  


“I’m afraid not. It’s not always I have a friend to chat with. I intend to keep you around, for a while longer at least.” There slight bitterness in his voice, but his smile didn’t waver when his eyes met yours, “Is this troublin’ you? If you really do need to go, then by all means I can’t stop you.”  


You should probably say no. Yes, you have acquired a new acquaintance, but what reason did you have to stay? What reason do you have to go back to your residence, though, and fall back into the drab routine of the family? Oh, bother.  


“And what will I be wearing, for our adventure, Ampora?” you muse, returning his smile. The man scoffs, as if offended you would even doubt his solution to that problem, “I have a whole wardrobe in the cabin. They might be slightly large for you, but no one’s around. It’s just the two of us. And for Mother Mary’s sake, I insist that you call me Eridan!”  


You scoff right back, “You’re not _that_ bigger than me, stop flattering yourself. But fine. Eridan then.”  


He grins at you as if you just gave him something valuable. He must really like hearing his own birth name. His reaction is somehow terribly endearing.  


“Oh shoosh. You are going to have the best days of your entire existence anyway, Tav. Trust me.”  


Somehow you don’t doubt him.

***

Three days. You stayed over in Eridan’s caravel for three days, and you do not regret the decision one bit.  


In fact, you really did have the best time of your life. There were no inhibitions; the two of you were like schoolboys, and definitely not upperclassmen. He made you feel as if you were just a normal person, what with the way you speak and the things you do. You wore nothing but plain shirts and went barefoot most of the time. He showed you how to tie a sailor’s knot and you taught him how to braid. He showed you his collection of firearms and you were temporarily spooked, coming to the conclusion that he might just be a psychopath after all and he laughed, hooked an arm around your neck and mussed up your hair, telling you to stop looking like a cow in line to the slaughterhouse.  


On the second day, he felt a little more adventurous and set his caravel on sail, bringing you both into the waters, not too far but enough that the docks were miniature to your eyes. You discovered your slight fear of being out over the sea, definitely not used to being so far from land. And Eridan, being the blasted son of a gun he is, decided to take a swim and leave you on deck, more than a little disturbed by then. He asked you to join him in the water, and you would have refused, until he also asked you to take off your prostheses.  


“Trust me, Tav,” he said, wavering his V’s like he always does, “I’ll take care of you.”  


You’ve never felt lighter in your life.  


The both of you talked about all the things that mattered and everything that was trivial, and you realized that he has made his way up your heart, all the way to being the bestest friend you have ever had. Neither of you said anything about your families, nor your backgrounds, only about yourselves and you loved it that way. You made to be his makeshift cure to his terrible loneliness and he stole you away from the burden of expectations you’ve been facing every day of your life, and for that, you are grateful.  


When it was time for you to leave, he pulled you close and embraced you, his advantage of height enabling him to half bury his face in your hair and stay there for a while. You patted his back and laughed at his sentimentality, and it was all you could do to not just stay in Estrellas de Mar, and never leave.  


“Till then, my dear friend,” he said against your hair, the smile in his voice as clear as the sea in the morning, “I’m treasurin’ the memory of these few days forever, and I sure do hope you would do the same. You better, Tavros.”  


“Why, of course! How would I, ever forget all those discussions concerning nowadays fashion, and the need of disposable prostheses?” you replied, and you pulled back then, smiling like an imbecile. You touched his face, and you said with the most heartfelt tone you have ever heard yourself use, “I will never forget you, Eridan. You are dear to me and you will stay so. Till then.”  


There was a moment of silence, and for those few seconds you place his visage into memory, because you don’t intend to forget him. He is your best friend, your companion. You didn’t know then. With another squeeze to your shoulders, he released you, and as you walked away from Eridan Ampora and his dear Estrella, you realized something.  


You felt as if you would never meet this man again.

***

Your mother, in all her graceful movements and clad in white (her favourite colour), looking more angel than human rushes over to you the moment you step in the door. And then your face is in her small hands, words tumbling from her lips and she’s reprimanding you, but all you could do is smile.  


“Tavros! Where in England have you been? You had me so worried, son, I was even about to set out search parties for you! Never leave such a short notice again, young man, I refuse to be bedridden and sickly this early just in worry for your welfare!”  


Chuckling, you press a kiss to your mother’s forehead, definitely glad that at least she’s well enough to be scolding you for your actions, “I, am very fine, mother. The finest I have been in my years. Fret not, I am back, the search party would be a waste of precious time.”  


Mother hushes you and pulls you into an embrace, and as if it is a trigger of memory, you find yourself thinking about the smell of the sea, and breathing against your hair, and you just—  


“Tavros.”  


That voice makes you freeze, as it have never failed to do every time you hear it. You turn from your mother, rigid and yet forcing your expression to maintain neutral. You’ve been yelled at because of your expression.  


“Sir,” you greet your stepfather, “Good morning.”  


Your step father is one hulk of a man. He’s large and looming and he was once in the army, and he is not happy to have acquired a paraplegic like you for a son with his marriage to your mother, Tabitha Nitram. He has been in the family ever since you were a young lad, and his presence appears in most of your nightmares.  


If someone observed the stumps of your legs closely enough, they are very fine spots dotted on them, like pinpricks of needles that bled and scabbed over and made a fine array of scars. You would tell anyone who asks that they were from a treatment you had a long time ago, to lessen the pain from your nerve endings. They did exactly the opposite for you ten years in the past.  


Your step father inflicted every single one.  


“A gentleman never tells his family about leaving through a commoner, Tavros. That’s what ruffians do.”  


“Apologies, sir. It will never happen again.” You didn’t need to explain. Not to him. You shouldn’t even try; it doesn’t usually turn out pretty.  


There’s a small hand on your arm, and somehow that relieves you of your tense state, and you exhale lightly though not too much. Your stepfather might notice and that wouldn’t be a good thing. He harrumphs, before turning around to leave. “Tabitha, have the maid bring a cup of coffee to my study. Then I wish to meet you. We need to talk.”  


You turn to your mother as soon as he leaves, quirking an eyebrow at her, “Really, Mama? He didn’t, give you a hard time while I was gone, right?”  


Shaking her head, she smiles wistfully, “Not at all, darling. You know how your father gets sometimes. He’s alright. So am I.” she tiptoes to press a kiss to your cheek, and pats your shoulder, “You should get some rest, Tavros dear. I need to tend to your father. Be sure to join us for dinner.”  


You once told your mother how you don’t like her referring to your stepfather as your ‘father’, but that made her upset for a week so you never brought it up again. You didn’t get to tell her that Mr Heifer himself hated the thought that you are actually his son. That is the only thing the both of you agree with.  


You have returned home, and to all its contents and you are now back on your drab routine on being the son of the Nitram family. Sometimes you wish you really are a ruffian. Things would be so much easier.

***

You fall back into your routine easily enough. It isn’t that simple to forget something you’ve been repeating for the past 10 years of your life. The getaway on Eridan’s caravel was lovely, but as are most of the things you think about, they’re temporary and unreal. Definitely not permanent.  


Going to balls, handling your family business and trading records, having to escort women out so their fathers would consider a deal with your own stepfather, it’s all part of your life. You are used, and there is nothing you could do about it. You sometimes consider running away, on a caravel or on a train or on flight if you could, but you can’t. Responsibility is a dreadful thing, often more than not.  


It didn’t really come to you as a surprise when your mother summons you, a wide smile on her face, and she’s holding a letter, and the olive green ink at the end informs you of who it is from.  


“Sit down, dear, I have questions for you,” her eyes has that twinkle in them and you sit down without a word, since you haven’t seen that for so long. Your mother sits up straighter and smoothes the front of her gown, leaning forward conspiratorially, “Tavros. Do you fancy anyone?”  


The question startles you and you blush, blinking a few times in confusing, “Uh…no? I mean, no, Mama. I don’t think I feel that way, for anyone just yet.”  


Her smile widens, “Well, that’s convenient. Here, let me just get straight to the matter here, Tavros. You remember that sweet little girl you told me you made friends with? The one you escorted to Arachne’s ball, um, Nepeta?”  


Nepeta Leijon. Of course you remember her. She was one of the girls at the whole ball who actually acted her age, and wasn’t too much a pain to be listening to. She’s demure, polite and slightly humorous, which is a rare thing with ladies nowadays, and you treasure her as an acquaintance greatly. Your mother is going to ask you to be her escort again, you’re sure. For a bigger ball, or to a soiree hosted by some other rich sir or something. You never saw it coming.  


“What do you think about her? “  


“Miss Leijon is lovely, I enjoy her company, very much,” you smile softly, because you really did mean it. She has a passion in felines, and sometimes she mock purrs when its just you and her. A lady couldn’t be caught doing that, but it makes you feel less forced to be at whatever event you are in.  


“She’s great, isn’t she? Now, Tavros. What would you think of…well. Marrying her?”  


Oh.  


Oh no.  


In your silence your mother pipes up again, clasping her hands together, “It will be lovely, Tavros! She’s a lovely person and I’m sure your children will be as cute as buttons! She’s about…18, isn’t she? Perfect age to be a wife! I heard she loves painting and sewing and she has quite talent when it comes to horse riding, their butler has been teaching her that, and-“  


“Mama. I do not wish to marry her.”  


Your mother looks at you, and with the change of expression you just knew you didn’t really have a say in this. It took years to realize when she’s asking, or when she’s breaking news to you. “But Tavros,” she tries, “Don’t you like Miss Leijon? You are nearing 22, pet, and it is due time you find yourself a wife, and—“  


“Tell me why. Exactly why.”  


You pray and pray in your mind that this wasn’t happening, that she’s just being overly enthusiastic but you’ve stopped praying a while ago, so why would anyone help you now?  


“Your father really needs to have some relations to the Leijon family’s trading, and he’d like it to be a permanent deal. And of course, relation by marriage is the most strongest of all, aside from family ties. Tavros, please, it isn’t so bad. Think about it. Why wouldn’t you marry a girl like Nepeta Leijon?”

“Because I don’t _love_ her,” you choke out, getting frustrated, “Mother, I beg you. I have been doing everything he wants me to, and I have been abiding, to your requests because of that bugger for, years and please just not this, Mama, I don’t want this, I—“  


She slaps you, hard and fast. It breaks your heart to see her standing, shaking, from the corner of your eye, and you touch your throbbing cheek, and you’re not even angry or surprised. You are just so tired.  


“Don’t you ever speak about your father like that again!” your mother exclaims, and her hand stays mid-air, shaking still. You stand up straight and lick the blood inside of your mouth, your cheek slightly cut by the impact and you look away.  


“Apologies, Mama. It will never happen again.”  


And as she hugs you, weeping because she is a gentle woman, and she never meant to hurt you or your feelings, you supress the urge to run again. There’s no use. You can never run.  


*** 

It’s as if that was the final blow to yourself, because you truly didn’t care anymore. At all. You had no protests, no qualms as you went through the motions of your routine, waiting for you to be given away to someone who you are going to spend the rest of your life with.  


Your family meets up with Nepeta’s, you have to be present, and you don’t really understand yourself anymore. It’s clear that you are quieter than usual, but the whole arrangement isn’t about you, so they don’t notice. It’s about creating ties, links for future collaborations in any field of business at all, so no, they did not notice.  


What breaks your heart the most is Nepeta’s reaction to everything. That was your final blow, and you made your decision. Your decision is to stop caring and go with it.  


She beams when you meet her in private after the meeting, not too private what with your chaperones waiting in the other corner of the room, but private enough. You open your mouth to express your apologies when she pipes up, grinning, “Oh Tavros, it will be so much fun!” You stare at her for a few moments, before echoing, “Fun?”  


“Yes!” her small hands are clasped and she goes on this excited rambling about the preparation and the wedding and the cards and you stop her eventually, placing a hand on her silk clad shoulder. “Nepeta,” you say calmly, “Are you alright?”  


And of course she shakes her head, tears pooling in her eyes but she’s smiling, a relieved smile rather than a bitter one and you are not sure what to think anymore. “I’m sorry Tavros, I’m truly alright. I just…I’ve been wanting to be married forever, and as much as I anticipate that, it’s a constant fear that I get married off to some old gentleman that I would never be happy with! I’m just…” she looks at you, and you see gratitude in her eyes, “I’m just so glad it’s you.”  


You spiral back into that gripping helplessness, because now you are truly alone in this. How could you ever tell her you don’t feel for her that way? You don’t feel for her enough to want to spend your life with her? You can’t tell her. So you don’t.  


You’ve come to terms with everything, at least. You don’t feel too nauseous anymore when you think about walking down the aisle, or kissing Nepeta after your vows, or having a ring on your finger, a brand that you are forever tied to this life, forever under some control.  


It doesn’t bother you too much anymore, now that you’ve stopped thinking about it. It might even not be as bad as it seems! Something inside you tears every time you try and convince yourself of that, because really. This is not what you want. You are not who you want to be, and that is that. 

***

“Oh but really now, Tavros,” Nepeta smiles, twirling the parasol in her hand lightly, “Look at it! It’s getting frayed at the edges and if I don’t acquire one soon, Mother might scold me.”  


You shake your head, a wistful smile curving your lips as well, “That couldn’t be helped then. Being scolded, for a slightly used parasol really is, the highlight of our lives, isn’t it?” She laughs, smacking at your shoulder lightly, glancing at your chaperones, “You forget we are in the company of people sometimes, you know?”  


More like you didn’t care, but you nod to be polite. The both of you enter the shop, both respectable well-dressed people from the upper class of the society, mingling in with the normal folk, looking for a parasol. It sickens you, but there is nothing you can do about it. Nepeta chooses her parasol, as you give her slight nods and noises of approval at her questions about which colour suits her best. You’re mostly gazing outside the window, to a couple of children playing with the lid of a trash bin, one child brandishing it like a shield. It makes you smile.  


Your view is blocked by a few figures walking in front of the shop window, and you hear the bell of the shop ring, indicating there are new customers in the premises. You glance at the family of upperclassmen and smile politely, before you pause, noticing a familiar face.  


This has to be some sort of illusion. Some sort of trick your mind is playing on you, trying to lift your mood up because this couldn’t possibly be happening. You see Eridan Ampora, staring right back at you inside of a parasol shop and for a moment you couldn’t help but think that he’s there to rescue you from this madness.  


Part of you is screaming in horror.  


You are staring at him and he is staring at you till Nepeta bounds to your side, fluting excitedly, “Oh gosh, Sir Peixes. It has been forever since I’ve come over to say hello! Is Feferi around?”  


The elegant man shakes his head, a polite smile curving his lips, “I’m afraid not, Miss Leijon. She has been overcome by the flu lately, but she is recovering. We are just here to buy her a get-well-soon present, of course. Eridan had to tag along, as you can see.”  


His sight is still transfixed on you and you smile to the older gentleman and his lady in front of you, bowing your head and taking off your hat as greeting. “Tavros Nitram,” you say, “Pleasure to meet you, Sir and Lady Peixes.”  


“Father,” the familiar voice says, and you look up to him, smiling widely now because you are reunited with your best friend, the man you felt closest with, “Nitram is from that family who uses our trading to ship dairy products and farming supplies. The one that used Estrella.” His father’s face lights up with recognition, as much as a face carved out of stone could light up and he smiles even warmly, extending a hand to shake yours. “Always a pleasure to meet a business partner. I take it you have met Eridan?”  


You glance at your colleague and beam at him, “Yes, I most definitely have.” You smile because you’re happy, and yet you couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that he isn’t what you thought he was. He’s just as trapped as you are, and for once, you could understand why he looked so lonely. 

Eridan’s smiling as well, a light edge to his lips and he nods, “Greetings, Nitram.” His eyes flick over to Nepeta and you berate yourself for forgetting your manners.  


“My apologies. Of course, as it seems that Nepeta is acquainted to your family, it’s suitable for me to invite you to the wedding on the 17th.” You didn’t realize when Eridan had taken a step forward closer to you, but he did and an eyebrow of his is quirked. “Wedding?”  


You didn’t realize it then, but it has never been so hard for you to say a word. “Yes. Nepeta is my fiancée.”  


Neither of you probably realize what’s going on between the two of you, and at that moment you are sure none of you are addressing your own emotions the moment you stated that out loud. To a stranger’s eyes, he is just staring at you, surprised and you are gauging his reaction in that hesitant, slightly fearful way you do. No one could have known what is running through both of your minds.  


“That’s wonderful,” he says quietly, and his surprised expression softens into a genuine yet weary smile, and you return it with relief. You told him once during your stay in his caravel that you are going to marry the one you love, and preferably have a farm with her somewhere away from the estates, where it’s just you and her and your cows and goats and sheep. He asked you if you’ve found your love. You said no, and laughed, adding that you think you might just never meet this lady. He laughs as well, clinking his glass of whiskey to yours, “Me too, Tav. Me too.”  


You ignore that terrible, terrible ache in your heart. You ignore it.  


That meeting didn’t last long, considering the Peixes’ were in a rush, and Nepeta was already done choosing her parasol. You didn’t get to exchange many words with Eridan, but it was unnecessary. You now know about him and he knows about you. You suppose that’s enough.  


Nepeta has been friends with Eridan’s cousin, Feferi for quite a while and knows a lot concerning their family. You ask her about that and she’s on a full speech about the businesses they invest in, about Feferi and her long line of suitors, about Eridan and his passion in boats and sailing off in them. You told her you had never seen him at dances or events, she said that’s because he’d rather not to go to them. He does attend at times, but he would make himself stay outside, and only talk to the people who join him on the balcony. He loves to be with people, she explained, but not when everyone is trying to impress everyone else.  


Once Eridan said this out loud to a daughter of the Serket family, telling her that he thinks everyone in a ball he’s attending was trying too hard, ‘bloody hypocrites that only know how to look pretty’ were his exact words and there was no reason for Miss Serket to keep quiet about it. He’s been some sort of a social reject since then, but Nepeta told you he had never taken his words back. He doesn’t seem like he wants to.  


He doesn’t. He told you the same exact thing on Estrella, and you laughed along and agreed with him, ‘Yes, they are all bloody hypocrites, each and every one of them and they know it. It’s what in fashion, these days,’ you said. You didn’t understand his look of gratitude then.  


It’s a blessing that now you can easily visit your self-proclaimed best friend, and catch up with him, or just spend time with him because really, the only escape you’ve ever experienced is when you were on Estrellas de Mar with Eridan. You don’t really have the guts to go through with visiting him, though.  


The thought of meeting him is painful, but you couldn’t figure out why.  


*** 

Eridan, unlike you, had guts. You are in your study, tediously signing calling cards with their top right corners bent to bring news of marriage, when your butler knocks on your door to inform you of the presence of a Mr. Ampora, and you run down the stairs of your residence, something you have never done.  


And it is him, standing in the doorway and your heart leaps in joy. It’s the best friend that you’ve spent too little time with, too little things you talked about. Eridan smiles, his shark like smile that’s slightly mellowed from how proper he is dressed but it’s alright. He’s a lot lovelier with his shirt undone and his hair mussed by the sea breeze but it’s alright. You place a hand on his shoulder in your excitement, beaming, “Hello, old friend! What a lovely surprise, you have for me this fine evening.”  


He pulls you into an embrace unexpectedly. It’s a rare thing to do, but after your initial shock you return it, patting his back lightly because this is Eridan and he is terribly dear to you. You wonder if something is wrong. You’re proven false when he’s grinning even wider as he lets you go, holding you by the shoulders, “Now, I would have bet a hundred dollars I would never set eyes on you again, you beautiful bugger. And I am happy I lost the bet, if I did go through with it.”  


The two of you laugh, and you invite him in, telling your butler to have some tea ready for the visitor and yourself. You didn’t usually have your own visitors, so it’s a nice change that it’s one of your friends coming over, because to be honest you didn’t have many friends either.  


Eridan and you talk like you’ve never been apart, picking up conversations you’ve left off in the caravel, talking about the news and events and everything that had occurred in the past few months, and you forget your own events and problems, and as always, you felt like you belong. He speaks as if he hasn’t been speaking much, in wide gestures and oscillating tones as you watch him in interest. The Ws and Vs in his words waver even more now, conversing with you like this, as opposed to you losing your own stuttering when you talk to him, your halts becoming shorter. It’s different than the first time you met him, of course. You could confidently say it is because the two of you are comfortable in each other’s presence; it takes your minds off your speech.  


But of course, the elephant in the room has to be addressed sooner or later. Eridan brings it up, after a sip of his tea, “So. Heard you are going to be a married man very, very soon. I suppose you’ve met her after all, Tavros.”  


It isn’t his fault, but you couldn’t quell the sick feeling in your stomach, “Well, that would depend, on who met her, of course. In this case, it was my mother who thinks she is, the one. Not myself.”  


There is a bout of silence, and Eridan leans forward, frowning, “Do you not want to or are you without opinions on this marriage?”  


“I don’t want to,” you say, looking at him, “But it is not my place to choose. Not even if it is my life, Eridan. You know that best.”  


His face crumples as if you’ve struck him, and you suppose in a sense you have. Neither of you look away from each other for a few moments, till you sigh and give him a weary smile, sipping at your tea again, “But it’s alright. What else could I do?”  


“We can run away, if you want.”  


Your head snaps up in surprise, eyes wide as you look at him, searching, “What did you say?”  


“Said we can run away, if you want.” Eridan’s expression is one of seriousness, and he’s lowered his voice conspiratorially, “It wouldn’t be too hard. I’ve sailed away before, though of course I chose to come back but I could have just stayed away. Estrella isn’t great for long voyages, but we could always go somewhere close and I could get a new sort of transportation. Or we could just stay on the sea, forever.”  


It sounds like a dream, his words. His suggestions had some sort of dreamy quality to them, though impractical and impossible, the images he is working into your mind make you ache with longing and you want so bad it hurts. But you force laughter out of you. There is nothing else you could do.  


“Eridan, my fantastic friend. That sounds like perfection but alas. I can never run from this life. If I do, the guilt will kill me, and then that’s the end of Tavros Nitram. I am sure you can relate, with my situation, more than anyone else ever could.”  


Your best friend watches you, and then leans back into his seat as well, taking a few gulps of his tea before nodding, “ That isn’t a doubt at all, of course. I do understand. It’s foolish of me to even suggest such things.”  


With a wave of the hand, you laugh again, because laughing is the only thing you are capable of doing right now, “Then I am a bigger fool to even feel like, going through with your plans, Eridan. I might come back to you in a few days and beg you to run away with me. Some variation of cold feet, I reckon,” You pause for a few moments, before continuing with a quieter tone, “And Eridan. If I ever do ask you to do that with me, please refuse. No matter what I say.”  


It is his turn to force a laugh out of himself, and his smile is the most heartbreaking thing you have seen in a while, “I promise you, Tavros. I will.”  


You couldn’t sleep that night.  


*** 

A week before your marriage, your mother decides to host a dinner party. At first you refuse to have any sort of solicitation with other people from the upper class since you personally felt like vomiting when you have to converse with them and introduce Nepeta as your fiancée, but that was before you realize Eridan is an upperclassman as well. The perks of being a male in the household is that you are excused from the whole bluster of event planning so you had a few days for yourself, sitting alone in your study, unconsciously looking at maps and destinations.  


The night arrives and then it is a flurry of people coming and going to talk to you and congratulate, ask you if you are excited, sob quietly into napkins because of how adult you are now. Your mother has set up your residence nicely, and after the dinner, everyone retreats to the hall for slight chatter and overall soliciting, with you and Nepeta as the main attraction.  


You didn’t see Eridan. You are sure he is here, since you could see his family around somewhere, and Nepeta is talking animatedly with his cousin Feferi and some other lady at this point of time. People talked and chatted and listened to music your father had specially brought from some sort of town and you talked and chatted and listened yourself, going through with this routine you had been forced to familiarize with since you turned thirteen.  


People begin to leave eventually, saying their goodbyes to your parents as well as you and your fiancée, till there are only a few people left. Nepeta also leaves then, with her own parents after giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek and you feel as if you could breathe for once during the whole event. You excuse yourself after whispering to your mother, informing her that you do not feel too well (you usually don’t after an event, standing up for too long makes your legs ache) and despite the disapproving glances from your stepfather you head out to the balcony, needing fresh air.  


And of course he is there. He’s always been there, and while you walk out to meet him, you realize that you knew he’s out there. Why wouldn’t he be. Eridan’s looking out from the balcony, a drink in hand, being generally a miserable man and you couldn’t help the smile on your face though it feels as if your heart is being carved something awful.  


“Couldn’t even say hello, could you?” you say, leaning on the ledge beside him, nudging, “I know you love your solitude, but really. From me?” Eridan looks at you and you have never seen that expression on a face before. You couldn’t tell either he’s sad or in pain or just terribly lonely and it ruins you, as he always had ruined you.  


“Had to let you play out the excellent host act before I could talk to you, Tav. Didn’t want you to have that mask on while we talk, that takes the point out of it.” His smile is terrible, a slight lift of his lips but it looks physically painful for him to do so, and you know then. You know what this feeling in your heart is and it terrifies you.  


“A week, huh?” He takes another sip from his glass, “That isn’t too long at all. You’ll be all dolled up and handsome on the altar, I bet. I’d have to restrain tears in giving you away, Tav. You’re flying out of the nest now and that breaks my heart, never thought this day would come--.” He’s talking too much and you needed him to listen to you, so you reach for his hand and squeeze, making him look at you, “Eridan.”  


No one is watching you on the balcony, so you pull him further away from the open doors that lead to the space, so that people couldn’t see you and what you are about to do because by God, if you do not do it now, you don’t know when you can.  


Then there is just the two of you and your jaw locks up, your new found confidence evaporating into air as if it was never there. Eridan’s confused, raising his eyebrows at you in question so you force the words from your lips anyway, thinking that if you screw this up you’ll lose him. You’ll lose him and life wouldn’t be so bearable anymore but since when is it supposed to be?  


“I…okay, look, Eridan. This isn’t a common occurrence, and I have no idea whatsoever concerning how to, break this to you but I. Alright. I treasure you. I hold you dear to me, and I mean very dear to me, I feel for you more than I do, for anyone else. That includes my family, Nepeta, and even, myself so let me just tell you that I. It’s not normal, but I might just.”  


You can’t. You avert your eyes, hands shaking and terribly near fleeing from the scene when you feel an equally shaky hand tilt your chin up, and it feels like a dream but you think Eridan is about to shed tears. A few seconds pass by and he dips his head to press your lips together, brief and not enough, pulling back too soon and he stops touching you, unsure of what he’s just done.  


You have no reason to hold back now.  


Grabbing the lapels of his shirt, you tug him forward and kiss him hard, the sound of breaking glass momentarily distracting you but then he’s kissing you back and you are utterly lost. You have never kissed anyone before but this is the only kiss you need, as he’s sliding his lips on yours and tugging with his teeth and licking your mouth, his hands pulling you close by your waist and there’s the warmth of tears on your face and you couldn’t tell who’s crying. You kiss him like you want all of him, your hands grasping to touch his face, his hair and his arms, because you do want all of him, you want him to stay and never leave you because how could you live knowing you could never have this, could never touch him like this again, and you berate yourself for realizing too late.  


“You bastard,” he gasps for breath soon enough, fingers gripping into your hips, “You awful, awful bastard, how could you do this to me--.” You shut him up with another kiss and it’s frantic touching from there onwards and you feel so lost and hopeless and you just want to drown in Eridan so bad it’s killing you.  


“Tav,” Eridan gasps again, needing you to look at him and you shake your head, the tears coming from you now, you realize. “Eridan, no. Don’t make me stop. Not yet.”  


His eyes search your face and the two of you kiss again, though gentler and slower this time, as if you could tell him all the things you need to tell him with the way you touch him, show him the terrible ache in your heart for all the things that could never be. You close your eyes and feel him, take him in while you can. How awful it is to love someone you could not have?  


It’s you who breaks the kiss then, looking up at him with sadness, noting all the lines and angles of his face this up close. “When?” you ask him, and he smiles, chuckling lightly, “The moment you translated Spanish for me. Of course it is attraction then, and I kept silent about it. And you?”  
“A few moments ago. But to be accurate, it’s probably when you brought me swimming. I have never felt what I felt then.”  


Eridan lifts his hand to push some of your hair back, smiling wistfully, “We’re a bunch of pansies.”  


“It’s terrible, really,” you answer with your own smile, before it falters, because truly, you can never be without worries for long, “I don’t want to marry Nepeta.”  


His face breaks once more and you regret your words, but you could not contain yourself. “I know,” he says quietly, “ I know you don’t. I don’t want you to marry her, either.”  


It’s sad that even if you were to not marry Nepeta Leijon, you don’t think you could ever have Eridan anyway, and it is that knowledge that makes it all the more bearable and excruciating at the same time. You reach up to peck his lips again, and pepper his face with kisses, dipping your head to kiss the dip in his chin, the one you’ve always been fascinated by. He inhales brokenly at your ministrations and you continue, kissing all the features you’ve noticed about him, his eyelids, the wrinkles at the side of his eyes, the curve of his cheekbone, the end of his jaw.  


You don’t know what possessed you, but you bend your prosthetic knee and lift it lightly between his legs, and the way his eyes flew open told you that you have crossed a line.  


You want to cross all the lines, when it comes to Eridan.  


“Tavros.” He says your name, short and simple and the Vs send chills down your spine like they always have, you’ve just mistaken excitement with interest. One of your hand slips down and brush over the front of his pants and he bites his lips, shaking his head, “Tav, we can’t--.”  


“We can’t. But we will. Eridan, I am never, going to have this chance again,” the desperation in your voice startles even yourself, “ If you won’t then I understand, but if you will, then please,” he stops you with a kiss to your lips and knocks your foreheads together after, his words merely a whisper, “ But it’s not right. We’re not supposed to and we can’t, Tavros and I would but I--.”  


“Who cares, I _love_ you,” you hiss in frustration, pressing yourself against him, “ I want you and I need you and I have to have you, Eridan. For once in my life, give me what I want, for _once_ in your life, _take_ what you want because we both know we won’t ever get our hearts’ desire so please.”  


You have never spoken like this before in your life, and it’s shameful, but it’s about time you said something about this madness, do something for yourself. Eridan realizes too, and he kisses you again, albeit more sweetly and slowly. “Not here, of course,” he says after hesitation, “Where?”  


The both of you look at each other for a moment and smile at the same time. Where else?  


*** 

The walk to the pier isn’t too far, in fact it felt too short for your liking. It’s night time, so there aren’t many people around. You take that advantage to hold Eridan’s hand, interlacing both your fingers as the two of you laugh and talk about things that will never be.  


“Fine,” you tell him, “We can live on the sea like bloody pirates, as much as you want Eridan, but for the love of God I will not be denied my farm. A farm is vital.”  


He shoots you this scandalized look and sighs exasperatedly, showing off his brilliance at theatrics, “Alright, Tavros, we’ll get you your blasted farm. And you can serve me breakfast in mornings and we’ll go riding horses together on weekends. In the evenings, we swim because obviously our mansion,” he pauses at your frown, “Cottage? Fine. Our cottage will definitely be near the sea. That’s my condition.”  


“We wouldn’t even be like gentlemen anymore," you muse and you fall in love again when he smiles at you.  


“Were we ever gentlemen, Tav?”  


You pull him down and give him a big kiss on the cheek then, because it’s the right thing to say and because no one was around. Because you couldn’t keep your hands off him and because you wouldn’t be able to touch him as much soon. It’s at the back of your mind; the fact of your upcoming marriage; forever present and biting at you, but for now nothing matters more than Eridan and yourself.  


You reach the caravel and truly then, nothing matters aside from what is happening.  


Nothing matters more than how his lips slides against yours, his lean body looming over you on the bed you used to sleep in on Estrella. How he moves down to press kisses on your skin, teeth grazing lightly to tease you. How his fingers trail over your prostheses, and he removes them one by one, eyes fixated on your own and you’re lost, lost in the intensity and lost in Eridan.  


Neither of you know how it’s done between two men, its taboo and is definitely forbidden but.  


Eridan lowers his hips to yours and reaches down, hand bringing you both together and you couldn’t help the sensations rushed through your body like a tidal wave, pleasure arching your back and tumbles from your lips as moans, and you have never felt that alive in your life. He says your name and kisses you again, hand slicking over the both of you and sparks fly.  


You have never felt so desperate, felt as helpless as you wrap your arms around him and press your face against the curve of his shoulder, trying muffle the shameful noises you’re making. But Eridan is cruel, and he moves away to kiss your neck, your shoulder, your face, forcing you to let go, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. At one point, you lose it. You beg him to take you away, beg him to run with you on this ship and live together, you ask him to rescue you, you ask him to steal you because you need him to, you can’t live without him, without this.  


From smug, he’s reduced to (because of you) gasps and moans and you could feel wetness on his cheeks when you touch him. He tells you he wants to, he wants to steal you so bad, wants you all for himself and no one else and you come as he feverishly chants ‘I love you’s into your mouth, milking you of everything you have before he freezes and spills himself over your stomach.  


You find out that you’ve been crying as well, and you hold him there against you for a little while longer, listening to his breathing slow down, living in the moment because this will be the last moment you’ll have with him. He is not yours and you are not his, the fact remains. And yet.  


The both of you stay there for a while, reminiscing about the days you were on Estrella. He caresses your stumped legs and plants kisses over your jaw while you speak, and in return you run your hands over his back, nip at that deliberate chin when he speaks instead. It’s wonderful, but it ends too soon. You can never have enough of Eridan, and you have to be okay with that.  


He sends you back home, again linking hands with you before you get to places with more people. It’s even later and there aren’t any more guests at your house, and the maids are cleaning up the dinner’s remains. You pull Eridan back to your balcony and wish him goodnight and you kiss him for the last time, gentle and heartfelt, and he leaves for home.  


It hurts, but there isn’t anything you could do now, could you?  


*** 

“Do you, Tavros Nitram, take Nepeta Leijon to be your lawful, wedded wife?”  


You inhale lightly, eyes on the priest, “I do.”  


“You may now kiss the bride.”  


Nepeta’s eyes are wide and hopeful under the veil, even more so than how they usually are when she tells you about her passion in horses and painting, as if she is really, really happy at the moment. You do not doubt that she is happy. Lifting her veil, you lean down to gingerly press your lips against hers, and the crowd applauses.  


You are now bound by the strings of matrimony, something quite different than all of your other bindings, and it ties you down the strongest. You succumb to your fate.  


There is a horse carriage outside, an idea put forth by your stepfather that you and Nepeta leave in a carriage with the traditional string of metal cans trailing from its back, and you lock your prostheses before carrying your bride to your ride, the gesture accompanied by whooping and clapping. You place her in a seat and get in yourself. As you look out the window, you catch the eyes of the man you’d rather be with for the rest of your life.  


Eridan smiles at you, a slightly bitter and weary smile, and he nods. You smile back and nod to him in answer, before settling back in your seat. You love him so much it’s breaking you and yet you feel whole because he loves you too. And there is nothing you could do about any of that.  


As the horses of your carriage begin to depart, you grasp at Nepeta’s hand you recall everything that happened between you and Eridan, smiling slightly to yourself.  


There will always be the memory of Estrella, at least.


End file.
